


the net underneath

by santanico



Category: Coolgames Inc (Podcast) RPF, McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF, Polygon (YouTube) RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Casual Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, complicated adult emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: “Miss the hell outta you,” Griffin says, and Nick’s heard it a million times. Griffin’s excited voice on Skype when they haven’t recorded in a few days, every time they see each other and get to hug in person. Nick’s mind starts to drift again as Griffin jacks him off, the low heat in his belly still building even as he thinks about the fact that they’ve never done anything exceptthis, never spoken seriously about whatthismeans, never felt like they had to.





	the net underneath

**Author's Note:**

> idk why i thought i could just write weird bathroom handjobs and not have it turn into a whole fucking thing  
> kudos to my gf for being incredibly patient while i dick around w/every idea that pops into my head
> 
> (i forgot about russ)  
> (and everyone lmao)

Nick’s tapping his fingers on the table, not so hard that the thump-thump-thump makes any noticeable sound, but enough so that Simone keeps glancing at him through the corner of her eye. She doesn’t glare or nudge him under the table, just turns her chair to face the front of the room a little more strictly. Nick’s grateful for her understanding of his nervous habits - he drums against the table and tries to focus on Pat’s PowerPoint.

God, he thinks. It’s 2017 and Pat is giving a PowerPoint, a serious one. Tara’s taking her glasses off and looking at bits of dirt specked across them. Griffin’s got his chin in his hands but he isn’t letting himself be distracted - admirable, Nick thinks, sitting across from him. Allegra’s smiling dutifully - she’s sitting the nearest to Pat, on the end of the table, leaning her elbow on the table and looking right up at him.

“Sorry guys, I promise I won’t keep you for much longer,” Pat says as he turns to another side. It’s a depiction of views and videos and other statistics on website rankings, neatly compiled into a textured slide. Pat pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat, diving into the logistics of keeping afloat under the pressure of video game journalism. He says a few more interesting tidbits, and Nick tries his best to keep ahold of them, and then he finally turns off the slideshow.

“Thank you,” Pat says, pressing his palms together and giving a short bow. Allegra, Griffin, Justin and Simone all politely clap. Allegra is the first to stand, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. Pat smiles at her and they chat for a moment, just as Nick stands up. He nearly bumps into Simone as they both step around to the other side of the table.

“Sorry,” he says, stuttering to a halt.

Simone raises an eyebrow at him. “Got somewhere to be?” she says, and Nick shakes his head. Justin and Griffin are talking on the other side of the table, Griffin leaning against his chair and rocking back and forth, glancing between where Nick’s standing and his brother.

Nick waits for Simone and Tara to clear the room before he makes his way to the other side of the meeting.

“Fun stuff,” he says.

Justin nods. “It is what it is. Pat does his best, considering.”

Nick runs a hand through his hair. Pat and Allegra are heading towards the door, still talking. Pat’s laughing now and Allegra’s got this goofy smile on her face as she follows him outside.

Justin glances between the two of them now. “Oh, hey, did you two - have plans?”

“Ah,” Nick says, pausing.

Griffin shrugs. “Not specifically.” He rubs his palm over the stubble on his chin. “I mean, I think this weekend, we wanna - we wanna shoot and record a couple of things, you know, for posterity?”

Nick hums. “Yes,” he says, "For posterity."

He’s tapping his foot now, his mind buzzing. He’s sick of being stuck in this office. He’s sick of looking at Griffin. He wants to tell Justin that yes, they have plans, they have plans until they unstick from each other, but that’s too much, and Griffin would be mad, so he just smiles, his leg vibrating.

“You okay, bud?” Griffin says, as if to punctuate on Nick’s wired sense of self.

“Yeah, I’m chill,” he says, ignoring the lilt in his own voice that says otherwise. He runs a hand through his hair again, smiles at Justin. “You going back to your hotel?” He says it, looking between Griffin and Justin, but knows he means it for Justin.

“Yeah, man, I’m wiped out. Just got in this morning, wanna get some rest before we do some more planning and writing and recording tomorrow."

“Totally,” Nick agrees. He looks at Griffin, who’s leaning hard on his chair now, rolling on the balls of his feet. “You, Griff?”

“I’m...Nah.”

“Nah?”

“I think I’m gonna hang out for a bit. You down?”

“Sure, sure,” Nick says. “I’m a bit keyed up.”

Justin snorts. “It shows,” he says, and his voice is a little sympathetic but mostly pitying. Nick shrugs. He has his brand.

Justin waves them off with a smile and it leaves Nick and Griffin as the remaining two in the office.

“Hey,” Griffin says.

“Hey,” Nick says.

They know better, but they still stare at each other.

Griffin’s the one who breaks it, who turns everything back down a notch. Initially, Nick’s both grateful and incredibly angry.

“So, yeah, you wanna grab a drink, or?”

Nick shoves his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. “Sure,” he says, tilted and sharp.

Griffin keeps a straight face and they walk outside the office, down the hall. They pause near the elevators - or rather, Griffin comes to a halt and Nick nearly knocks into him, and Nick scowls and Griffin stares at him, then licks his lips.

“Actually, I’m gonna use the restroom real quick,” he says, training his gaze directly at Nick. “If you wanna wait?”

Nick hesitates, unsure who they’re performing for. If he wasn’t wired before, he sure as fuck is now - Griffin’s testing him, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“No, that’s - that’s a good idea.” Griffin smiles and Nick clears his throat, following him down the hall. This is how Griffin gets sometimes - excited but tense, worked up but contained. Nick’s stomach is flying and flipping and he’s trying to keep his strides average, but Griffin’s already a fast walker and Nick doesn’t wanna fall behind.

Griffin swings the bathroom door open and Nick waits just a second, has to make sure - Griffin turns, still holding the door, and looks at Nick with an eyebrow raised.

Nick hurries inside and Griffin pushes the door shut, snapping it locked before he crowds Nick against the door to kiss him.

Nick’s suddenly grateful for the midsized, gender neutral private bathrooms they have on the floor. It’s a rare and lucky New York commodity - Nick knows this because the main Vox office has stalls, all crowded together in a small space.

“God,” Griffin says, knocking Nick from his wandering thoughts, “you’re so obvious, it’s embarrassing.” He’s smiling as he says it, starting to press kisses along Nick’s jaw, cupping his face in his hands.

Nick steadies himself by spreading his legs.

“I - I didn’t think you’d have the guts for this,” he says, catching his breath. Griffin snorts and pushes Nick’s sweatshirt and t-shirt off his shoulder, biting down hard and sucking. Nick flinches and then groans, picking up his fist to bite into his knuckles.

Griffin laughs and pulls back, reaching for the zipper of Nick’s jeans.

“Guess that’ll teach you not to doubt me,” Griffin says, unzipping Nick’s jeans and cupping him through his underwear. Nick’s only just getting hard as the anxiety is fading, replaced by a rush of adrenaline. Griffin doesn’t say anything - thank God, Nick thinks - and just presses the palm of his hand along the length of Nick’s dick, stroking with ease.

The friction and heat hit Nick with clarity now - he’s growing more obviously stiff under Griffin’s hand, and Griffin takes advantage, squeezing near the head. 

“Griffin,” Nick breathes. What they’re doing is, in Nick’s mind, totally unconscionable. All of their closest friends use this restroom and it isn’t exactly sanitary to begin with. Even as Nick’s mind sets off every alarm telling him this is stupid and they should quit while they’re ahead, his dick is throbbing and Griffin is licking his palm.

“Take it easy, okay?” Griffin says, and Nick has a wild thought that he’s some unruly animal or kid that Griffin needs to take control of so he pinches Griffin’s arm in retaliation. “Ow,” Griffin says, snorting gently as he untucks Nick from his boxers. He presses a kiss to Nick’s throat. “Just relax.”

Nick closes his eyes and focuses instead on what’s in front of him. The heat and dampness of Griffin’s palm. Griffin kneading his cock, rubbing his thumb on the underside. Griffin pressed up tight against him, now giving Nick long, languid strokes with his fist, teasing the head before he quickens his pace.

“Miss the hell outta you,” Griffin says, and Nick’s heard it a million times. Griffin’s excited voice on Skype when they haven’t recorded in a few days, every time they see each other and get to hug in person. Nick’s mind starts to drift again as Griffin jacks him off, the low heat in his belly still building even as he thinks about the fact that they’ve never done anything except _this_ , never spoken seriously about what _this_ means, never felt like they had to.

Nick wraps an arm around Griffin’s shoulder.

Not that they’re hiding it, he thinks. He’s pretty sure they aren’t hiding it.

He jerks his hips, heat coiling inside him, Griffin breathing hot against his throat.

They’re not hiding it intentionally, at least. They don’t _see_ each other that often. It’d be silly to make a big deal out of it.

“Griffin,” Nick’s panting, scraping the fingers of his free hand against the door as he grinds up against Griffin.

They like each other, and they’re content, and _Nick’s_ content, especially. It’s lucky that they get to do this. It’s so lucky, that they get to be like this, that they get to see Griffin, and they get to be this close, even if it’s just a few times a year.

Nick comes into Griffin’s fist. The orgasm is barely a flicker in his radar. Griffin’s biting him again, groaning into his skin. Nick sighs.

Griffin makes a joke about how convenient bathroom sex is as he turns on the sink. Nick catches his breath against the door. His mind is foggy so he just nods, wipes the sweat from his forehead. Griffin is sweet, cleans Nick up with damp paper towels. Nick hikes his jeans back on and looks at himself in the mirror. His face is flushed and his eyes are shiny and his hair is sticking to his forehead. Griffin smiles at Nick through their reflections. Nick swallows and washes his hands.

“Still down for drinks?” Griffin says, and Nick swears he hears the slightest hesitation, but he writes it off. He’s imagining things.

“Yeah,” he says. “You go first.” The words even sound distant, coming out of his mouth. He dries his hands methodically with paper towel, straightens and flattens his t-shirt against his chest. He brushes damp fingers through his hair and waits another thirty seconds before flushing the toilet and turning on the water again. A part of him question why he’s pretending - why would Griffin give a shit that he needs a moment to collect himself? - but he ignores it, shoves it down into the emptiest parts of his chest, and slips back into the hall.

-

“I know this nice little place not far from here,” Griffin is saying as they walk outside. It’s mildly sunny and warm, more spring weather than summer, a welcome relief in Nick’s head. Allegra and Pat are actually outside the office building again, chatting on a bench when Allegra notices them.

“Oh, hey guys!” Nick admires Allegra’s ever cheerful persona. He’s only seen her lose it twice - once at E3 a year ago, and once again a few months ago when IGN beat Polygon to the punch with the news about the NES classic discontinuation. Otherwise, despite the sincerely insane amount of work she puts in, Allegra’s always calm and composed.

“I thought you guys had left already,” Pat says, eyebrows furrowed. Griffin glances back at Nick, who shrugs.

“We had a couple of things to catch up on,” Nick says, and Griffin nods. He’s smiling though, as if he enjoys these odd little secrets they keep. Nick’s still dealing with fuzziness in his head but the anxiety is starting to gain again, leaving him a little twitchy.

“Right,” Pat says, standing up. Allegra follows suits, brushing her palms off on her skirt. Pat presses his lip together, then says, “We were just gonna grab a drink and hang out, maybe. It’s Friday, after all, we all have tomorrow off. Were you two…?” He trails off.

Griffin says, “Actually, we were gonna do the same. I have someplace in mind.”

“Great,” Allegra chirps. “Hopefully it’s somewhere we haven’t been. Two natives and two strangers.”

“I lived in New York,” Nick interjects, although he doesn’t add that he never lived in the city proper, and he rarely ventured there anyway unless necessary, thanks to social anxiety.

“Things change,” Pat says, and Nick sighs.

“Well, I’ve done my research,” Griffin says, and he starts walking without looking back. Nick admires that about Griffin - he takes to leadership much easier than Nick ever expected from someone like Griffin. Maybe Griffin’s at ease now because everyone around him is at least three years younger than him. Like he’s the adult, leading his children.

As soon as Nick thinks it, he kicks the thought from his mind.

Allegra loops her arm through Nick’s as they walk and he finds himself having to pick up his stride to keep up with her. She isn’t as tall as Pat - isn’t as tall as him, either - but she takes rapid steps, like she’s constantly barreling ahead.

“How are you?” she says. Pat and Griffin walk in front of them, only ahead by a pace or two. Nick’s being led like a dog. He doesn’t think about that any harder than he has to.

“I’m...good. Tired?”

“Mm.” Allegra leans on his shoulder for a second, then squeezes his arm. “We miss you around here.”

“Yeah,” Nick says. He touches his hair with his other hand. “I miss you guys too.”

“Griffin,” she says, and Griffin glances over his shoulder but doesn’t stop walking. “We miss you guys.”

He grins and looks back in front of him. “Yeah, distance is a motherfucker,” he says, just loudly enough that all four of them can hear him. “We’re almost there,” he says over his shoulder.

Nick misses California. He swears the air is cleaner there, the people more self-absorbed and less annoyingly pretentious. He’s grateful when they’re off the street and inside a dimly lit, yet shiny looking bar. It’s quiet for a Friday afternoon, and Griffin immediately takes a seat at the bar.

The bartender’s a guy with an undercut and tattoos lining his arms. He’s wearing a tank-top, which to Nick is crazy - they’ve cranked the temperature so low in here that Nick is shivering in his sweatshirt.

Still, the bartender is nice enough - his name is Travis, and Griffin makes a couple of jokes and tells him, “Hey, my brother’s name is Travis, you should look him up,” with a grin. Travis The Bartender is nice enough to humor Griffin, who understandably sounds like he’s spewing bullshit, and takes their orders with unnerving efficiency.

Pat orders an overpriced sangria, hums as he sips it. Nick starts off with a cider, glowers when Griffin calls him out for being boring as hell. Griffin - bastard he is - orders a stout, like he’s some kind of aging man with a pension. Nick says as much but Griffin just laughs it off, shoving Nick half off his stool.

Allegra orders a cider as well, tips her glass in solidarity in Nick’s direction. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” Nick says, smiling at Allegra from over Griffin’s order.

“Should we get anything to eat?” Pat muses.

Griffin orders jalapeno poppers, jokes about hoarding them, and then splits them four ways. There’s enough for each of them to have two, so Nick nibbles on his, splayed out on an unfolded brown napkin.

“Be honest,” Pat says. “Are my presentations boring as fuck?”

“No,” Allegra says, too quickly. She smacks a hand over her mouth and leans back. “Sorry.”

“Well,” Griffin says, “they’re not boring, but they are slideshow presentations.”

Pat rubs his forehead. “It’s hard to do shit like that,” he says. Nick looks at him, sympathetic. “I have parameters and there’s certain things we _have_ to discuss, and there’s only so many ways to do that, in the office, when we’re all together.”

“It’s easier over Skype,” Nick says, giving Pat a gentle nudge of his elbow. “But it’s nothing wrong with the way you present, ya know?”

Griffin hums. “I agree,” he says. “You always interject something interesting in them, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Allegra says, leaning forward again to look at Pat. “It’s a hard job,” she says.

Pat smiles. “Thanks guys,” he says, and takes a long gulp of his drink. They keep chatting about work - about how good it is to have Justin around, the presence he brings. How Griffin and Nick are always so funny, how it’s so rare for them both to be in the same place at the same time, especially New York. Griffin’s all smiles and witty one-liners throughout, and he orders another round of drinks for everything. Nick decides to switch over to beer and Pat keeps slurping up sangrias. 

The brown ale Nick orders is malty and local, and not bad considering he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’s drinking fast enough and the alcohol is hitting him hard enough that the fuzzy anxiety is starting to turn into fuzzy tipsiness. Griffin is laughing beside him at some joke Allegra’s made. Nick’s lost the plot.

“Hey, where are you staying?”

“Huh?” Nick says, looking at Pat.

“What?” Allegra says, looking between Griffin and Nick. “You two didn’t coordinate hotels?”

Griffin chuckles. “I mean, no, not this time,” he says, like it’s a joke.

Nick wants to say something but his voice is stuck in his throat. They hadn’t coordinated hotels at all, no. Nick isn’t sure why. He hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe Griffin hadn’t mentioned it because Nick hadn’t.

Nick swallows. “It’s actually the other way,” Nick says, immediately realizing how little sense that makes. “I mean, we left to the right, and I’m to the left. Of Polygon.”

“Oh, that Comfort Inn? That sucks,” Pat says.

“It’s fine,” Nick says. He’d slept just fine last night after he’d checked in. He shrugs. “Griffin?”

“My choice isn’t much better,” he admits. “I didn’t even know they had Red Roof Inn’s in New York anymore.”

Pat snorts. “Pick a hotel and it’s here,” he says.

“Yeah,” Allegra agrees. Nick’s on his third drink, another one of the beers, but he’s almost done and he’s ready to leave it at that.

Allegra and Griffin chat about nothing in particular and Pat stares at him.

“What?” Nick says, not meaning to sound annoyed. Pat just smiles.

“You seem out of it, is all.”

Nick lifts his beer. “Cheers. And I can still use jetlag as an excuse, right?”

“Sure can,” Pat agrees with a solemn nod. Pat leaves it at that - maybe because he’s a good friend, maybe because he doesn’t want to know. Nick decides to be generous and assume the latter, finishing off his beer.

There’s an unspoken agreement that they’ve stayed and chatted long enough, and Nick is infinitely thankful that his friends have this kind of understanding of each other. He’s worked under worse conditions.

Griffin’s looking at him again, his expression almost blank besides the hint of a smile. It’s probably not the alcohol that makes Nick’s head spin, his stomach flip.

“Pat, can I crash at yours?” Allegra says, wrapping an arm around Pat’s waist. He pulls her in for a hug and says, “Yes, of course, any time.”

Nick tries to ease back on the jealousy. Their friendship looks so easy, so unexpected but simple. They step outside and the night air is just the edge of chilly. Nick shivers in his sweatshirt and shuffles on the empty sidewalk. Griffin steps up next to him.

“Hey,” he says. Pat and Allegra, still clinging to each other, are calling for a cab.

“Hey,” Nick says, not looking directly at Griffin.

Griffin touches the small of Nick’s back. His hand lingers there for several seconds before dropping.

“I don’t wanna send you back to your hotel alone,” Griffin says, his voice a soft undercurrent. It still cuts through Nick’s brain fog like a hot knife, and Nick swallows, unable to find an answer.

“Hey,” Pat says, loud enough that Griffin and Nick both look at him. “We just called a cab. You two boys stay safe out there, alright?”

“Of course,” Griffin says. Somehow, he seems completely sober - even though Nick knows Griffin downed just as much as anyone else. Allegra and Pat teeter a little further down the street, waving their arms over their heads and yelling _Good night!_ s back at Nick and Griffin.

“Night, guys,” Nick calls. He zips up his sweatshirt. Griffin touches the back of his neck now, his hand warm. “Are you inviting me to yours?” Nick says, finally chancing a look at Griffin’s face.

Griffin’s cheeks are a little pink - he _is_ feeling the alcohol, he’s just good at masking it. His eyelids are slightly hooded and he’s still smiling, not showing any teeth. Nick thinks about the thousands of things he finds attractive about Griffin, how unbelievable it is that the two of them do the things they do. 

“I can just call you a cab if you’d rather,” Griffin says. His expression turns more serious, the smile dropping just slightly, his eyebrows knitting together. Nick’s heart pounds in his chest. How does Griffin always reduce him to this? He’s stupidly agreeable, if Griffin told him to do a handstand right now he’d probably try.

“No,” Nick says, “don’t call a cab.” He clears his throat. “Shit. It’s cold.”

Griffin nods. “Actually, uh.”

Nick laughs. “Your hotel isn’t very close, is it.”

“It’s not.” Griffin actually looks apologetic, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, cab it is.”

Griffin orders a cab on his phone and they wait a few minutes on the side of the street. The driver that arrives is quiet and efficient, playing vaguely electronic music on the car’s speakers. Nick bops his head to the bass and taps his foot in rapid beats until Griffin presses his palm to his knee. Nick’s immediate reaction is to be annoyed - he can fidget all he likes, thanks - but when he looks at Griffin, Griffin’s hand draws up his leg.

It’s such a cliche move but it works. Nick goes still, fingers threaded on his lap. Griffin doesn’t look at him as he squeezes Nick’s thigh and Nick bites the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the road outside his window. 

“Turn right here. Yeah, thanks,” Griffin says. He draws his hand a little further, towards Nick’s hip. Nick’s cock is definitely interested - something about not being touched, about knowing he won’t be touched for a while, at best, is almost as exciting as anything else. As Griffin rubs his palm on Nick’s thigh, the tease of it draws out fantasies Nick knows he’ll never get to live out. Blowing Griffin in the back of a car. Jacking Griffin off with their mics still on, just to make Griffin sweat. Bold things, things Nick knows he’d never do. He’d freeze up and panic.

Griffin’s different. Not that he thinks Griffin would do _those_ things, but Griffin’s more willing to push limits.

“Thanks,” Griffin says as they pull in front of the hotel. The driver makes small-talk about the area. Griffin says they’re visiting for work. He swipes his card, punches in a tip, and slips out of the cab. “Have a good night,” he says, and the driver repeats it. They both wave and smile and Nick jerks his chin in a half-nod like the idiot he fucking is.

It’s Griffin’s fault, he decides. Griffin’s fault for working him up until he’s half-hard and buzzed and exhausted and so ready.

Griffin makes small-talk. “Wanna do a live one on Sunday? CGI, I mean. That could be fun, right?”

“Sure,” Nick says, shifting his weight between his feet as they stand waiting for the elevator. “It’ll be nice to do whatever tomorrow.”

Griffin laughs. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll probably catch up on a few things, anyway.” He scratches his chin, frowning. “I brought my laptop but D&D notes are nowhere to be seen.”

“Fortunately,” Nick adds softly.

“Yeah, fortunately for you,” Griffin says, and there’s a softness to his voice that’s unexpected. The elevator dings and the door opens, empty inside.

“Fifth floor,” Griffin sing-songs as the elevator shuts and he presses the button. “New York’s fucking expensive, you ever think about that.”

Nick nods. “I do. There’s a lot I love about it, but.” He tilts his head back to look at the elevator ceiling. It dings again, and the door opens. Griffin steps out and Nick follows. “I wouldn’t move back here, probably.”

“Probably,” Griffin says. “Nah, man, I get it.”

“Do you?”

Griffin shrugs, glancing down a hallway and looking at his keycard. “Got it,” he says as they reach the right room number. “Anyway, I just mean to say, I feel the same about Austin. Once you get settled somewhere, it just kind of...sticks.”

“I guess,” Nick says, even though he knows Griffin is right.

The hotel room is cramped, exactly as Nick expects it to be. It mirrors his eerily well. One bed, a queen, trapped between two walls. No windows to speak of, a TV mounted to the wall, a long dresser beneath it and a cable box attached to the outlet. A remote, carefully placed on a bedside table. A phone for food service and wake-up calls. A bathroom - with an actual bath crammed in with a toilet and one sink and mirror.

Nick looks around before sitting at the desk - another hotel room staple - and fiddling with the pad of paper.

Griffin takes off his jacket and throws it on top of his suitcase. “What,” he says, “you gonna write your novel?”

“Between the two of us, you’re a better writer than I am.”

Griffin shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. “C’mere,” he says. “I follow through,” he says.

Nick hesitates. Griffin raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Griff, I....”

Griffin drops his shoulders and sits on the bed, his expression transforming into genuine concern. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Am I coming on too strong? Shit.”

“No, it’s not…” Nick trails off, the words trapped in his throat again. He shakes his head. “I dunno, maybe it’s the beer.”

“Nick,” Griffin says, in _that_ voice, and Nick drops his head in his hands. He’s starting to panic again, all the thoughts of the day rising up and whispering at him but _loud_ and insufferable.

“Are we - is this - is this _all_?” And if the anxieties in his brain are insufferable, he sure as fuck is too.

Griffin tilts his head. “I’m...What?”

Nick waves his hand at the bed and then motions between them, some kind of awkward and uncertain sign language. “The - the fucking, the - you know, in the bathroom, when we see each other, just the...You know.”

Griffin folds his hands on his lap. He looks - so serious. Nick’s chest is gonna explode.

“You’re - I’m sorry, Nick, but you’re gonna have to clarify.” Nick wants to not do that, wants to roll up into a small ball and never speak again. He doesn’t want to look Griffin in the eye.

Finally, he says, simply, “Why am I here, Griffin?”

He waits and Griffin doesn’t say anything. When he glances up, Griffin’s lips are pursed.

“Do you wanna be here?” Griffin finally says.

“Yes,” Nick says. “But that’s not what I’m asked.”

Griffin smiles, then. “You’re right. That’s not fair, I apologize. I think - I think you’re here because you like kissing me. And - because we like being around each other. Fucking helps, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Nick says, swallowing. “And why do you want me here?”

Griffin pauses, opens his mouth, closes it again. “Because I like you. Because I care about you.” He gives a little side-nod of his head. “Because I wanna sleep with you.”

Nick smiles weakly. “And when we’re not fucking?”

“What?”

“If I - if I didn’t wanna fuck, would you still want me here?”

This time, Griffin doesn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he says, stiffening his shoulders. “Hey. C’mere. We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Nick complies, sitting next to Griffin and leaning into his shoulder. Griffin wraps an arm around him - he’s warm, solid against Nick.

“I like you a lot,” Nick murmurs. “Not just as a friend. Not just ‘cause of sex.”

“Oh,” says Griffin.

“I’m sorry,” Nick says, shutting his eyes. “I thought I could let it go but it just keeps hitting me.”

Griffin squeezes him harder. “God, Nick. I wish I’d known.”

Nick presses his face to Griffin’s shoulder and waits. He’s scared to move or to say anything else.

Griffin shifts and takes Nick’s face in his hands, kissing him. It’s on the gentle side for Griffin, just the press of his lips. No open mouth, no forcefulness. They stay like that for a few seconds, and then Griffin tips his head forward, pressing his forehead to Nick’s. They breathe in sync for a minute and Griffin drags the tips of his fingers down Nick’s neck. Nick shivers.

“It’s stupid,” Griffin says under his breath. “I just assumed what you wanted and accepted it.”

Nick blinks.

“With the distance and the - and all the work we do together, I thought…” Griffin trails off, then presses his mouth across Nick’s face, kissing every inch of it. He cups Nick’s jaw and Nick’s rushed by how safe it feels. “I thought, _no way, not that guy._ I thought you’d be shacking up in California, or - or you’d be...I don’t know. Something better than this.”

“There’s nothing better than this,” Nick says, clenching his fingers into Griffin’s t-shirt. “God. You fucking dumbass.”

Griffin laughs and kisses Nick again, harder this time. They dive into each other with more intent now, Nick licking his way into Griffin’s mouth, Griffin sucking on Nick’s bottom lip and running his tongue across the underside of Nick’s tongue. Nick hooks a leg over Griffin’s lap, straddles him and pushes him down onto the bed by his shoulders. They kiss like that, hips slotted together and Nick’s hair brushing Griffin’s forehead, until Griffin gently nudges Nick away to take off his glasses.

The anxieties are still there, of course, lurking in the pit of Nick’s stomach, but he’s also suddenly more awake than he has been all day, his chest spiking and churning, his brain on high alert as he looks at Griffin.

Griffin reaches out to touch him.

“I don’t wanna ruin things, but, um, there’s something I wanna...try.”

Nick’s stomach flips.

“Yeah?” he says, trying to imagine what Griffin could have in mind.

“Can I - God, this is so stupid, it’s not even that weird.”

“Griff. Just say it.”

“Can I eat your ass?”

Nick snickers, despite himself.

“God, Nick.”

“I just expected something else,” he says, still laughing. “Fuck yeah. Fuck. Yeah, why haven’t we done that before?”

Griffin shrugs. “I think it’s a few extra steps. Like, you should shower, because I’m not wasting time with a condom.”

Nick’s entire face flushes and he’s sure it’s obvious and embarrassing but Griffin just smiles at him. It’s hard for Nick to believe that up until a few minutes ago, he’d firmly believed that Griffin wanted nothing to do with him outside of fucking and working together. It wasn’t that Griffin was cold, or mean - it was just how their relationship had seemingly developed.

“Okay,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. The alcohol’s gone now, for sure, barely a hint of it in the back of his head, and he heads into the tiny bathroom with his legs and hands quivering. The shower is small but substantial enough, with little bars of soap in plastic packaging, tiny shampoo/conditioner bottles, a washcloth hanging on the rails. Nick grabs the washcloth and a bar of soap and steps into the hot water stream he sets, spending only as much time under it to get ridiculously clean. He pauses after washing his hair and fists his cock, giving it a few good pulls away from the spray of water. He never really likes jacking off in the shower - it’s never quite as good as he hopes - but getting hard now seems like a good idea, and it’s easy to get it up when he thinks about what Griffin was saying.

He strokes himself a few more time until his cock is hard and curving towards his belly, throbbing just enough to still be good. Nick climbs out of the shower and dries himself off carefully, rubbing the towel through his hair and then turning on the fan and looking at himself in the mirror.

His skin is red - hopefully just from the heat - and his hair is dripping wet on his shoulders. He dries it further until it’s just damp enough to separate into pieces, but not enough to get on his shoulders. He pats himself dry in the places he’d missed, eyeing his cock along the way. He touches himself a bit more for good measure, presses his thumb to the head and jolts. He’s sensitive. Still wired from being teased in the cab, from the ever present emotions ringing through him. He leaves the towel behind and steps out of the bathroom.

“Holy shit.” Griffin’s voice is low and throaty and Nick pushes his hair out of his face. “Come here, Nick. Please. Fuck.”

It’s awkward, Nick thinks - walking into the tiny hotel room and reaching the bed. His knees hit the mattress and he looks at Griffin, but Griffin’s just staring at him, and Nick almost says, _my eyes are up here_ but resists because the attention is exhilarating.

“God, now I’m just thinking I wanna blow you,” Griffin mutters, but then he shakes his head. “Get on the bed. On your stomach.”

“God, Griff,” Nick mutters, but he listens anyway, because it’s all he wants to do.

“Spread your legs a bit.”

Nick shifts, pushing his thighs apart. He ruts a bit against the sheets. He wonders if they should put down a towel but he doesn’t have time to voice his concern as Griffin presses his palm to the small of Nick’s back. Nick flattens against the mattress.

“Your cock’s great, but.” Griffin swallows. Nick turns his head, but closes his eyes. “Can I?”

“Please,” Nick says, glad it’s the only word he has to articulate.

It’s more than anything Nick could have thought.

Griffin’s tongue starts licking, long strokes against his hole, pushing Nick apart. Griffin doesn’t hesitate at all, circling his tongue against the opening before he presses in, angling the tip just right. It isn’t like being fingered or fucked, it’s not enough of a stretch or enough pressure, but every nerve in and around Nick’s ass is experiencing every single touch, and it’s a fucking godsend.

Griffin leans back, starts flicking his tongue faster. He’s closer, his nose pressed against the space separating Nick’s spine from his ass, gripping Nick’s hips before he dips down, presses his mouth to Nick’s perineum, licks and sucks until Nick shudders and groans.

“Shit, Griffin,” he breathes, wishing he had more leverage. Griffin isn’t letting him get on his hands and knees, and that’d be okay except that his dick is trapped and Griffin isn’t touching him. Nick wiggles a little, reaches down and between the bed and his stomach to fist himself. It’s not the best solution, but it works, his cock twitching in his hand as he strokes.

“Fine,” Griffin says, as if accepting something he found unexpected. “If you’re that desperate.”

Nick bites the pillow. “Griffin,” he pants, and Griffin nips the left side of his ass, trails down to his thighs where he bites and sucks some more, until Nick is panting and begging, sloppy non-sentences spilling from him. “Please, I need - fuck me - fuck, your tongue - I gotta have you,” he gasps, only half-aware that he’s speaking nonsense.

“Oh, babe,” Griffin murmurs, pressing the flat of his tongue to Nick’s hole. Nick fucks his own fist as best he can, although Griffin still doesn’t give him much room to move. “You love this, don’t you?” Griffin pulls back and breathes against the wet stripe he leaves, sending a chill through Nick’s body.

“Yes, yes, fuck, Griffin,” Nick says, jerking himself harder.

Griffin fucks the tip of his tongue into Nick, then pushes in further. It’s barely anything, maybe an inch if Nick’s lucky, but it’s enough. His entire world goes sideways and Griffin manages to join Nick is jacking his cock, his hand much more skilled and thoughtful. Nick jerks as Griffin thrusts his tongue and he comes with a strangled shout, face buried into the pillow.

He’s still pulsing, spilling onto the poor hotel bed sheets, when Griffin slides his tongue out of him and presses his chest to Nick’s back. It’s not his entire weight but it’s a reminder, and as Nick starts to come down from his orgasm, he rolls away from the spot on the bed and looks at Griffin, eyes half-shut.

Griffin pushes the dirty sheets to the end of the bed, a problem to deal with later.

Nick, still shaking, says, “Can I - can I blow you?”

Griffin just shakes his head. “Just...stay like that.”

Nick stares, not sure what he’s being asked. It takes him a moment, watching Griffin undo his jeans and kick them off, then push his underwear to his hips. Nick hesitates - is he supposed to move? - but then freezes as Griffin fists himself.

Griffin’s looking at him.

Staring at him.

Nick meets his gaze. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Griffin’s starting slow, his cock at full hardness. He’s flat on his back on the one side of the bed, watching Nick as he takes steady breaths. “This is - you just wanna look at me?”

Griffin just nods, twisting his wrist. Nick glances. Griffin’s cock is his favorite thing in the world. A little longer than his own, not quite as thick but perfect where it matters. Nick wonders if he should say something.

“You’re perfect,” is all that comes out, and Griffin laughs and throws an arm over his eyes but keeps going, a little faster with every passing second so Nick shifts closer and says, “Hey, please, look at me.” Griffin drops his arm and turns his gaze back on Nick. “I love your cock,” he says, and even though in his head it sounds stupid, Griffin bites his lip, his breath hitching. “I love the weight of you, I love watching you touch yourself. I wish you were fucking my mouth but we - we have all the time in the world, huh? That’s crazy.”

Griffin moans, says Nick’s name a couple of times in quick succession, and comes into his palm. Nick stares as it happens, unsure of where to look. Griffin’s cock twitching or his face contorting. Nick scoots closer.

“Thank you,” Griffin says. “Oh, shit. God, this is fucking gross.” He wipes his palm on the side of the bed and Nick can’t help but laugh. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna soak them or something. This is so embarrassing.”

“They’ve seen worse,” Nick points out. “I promise.”

Griffin sighs. “Thanks,” he says again. “For being...that.”

Nick grins. “Happy to,” he says, and he means it.

They stay like that for a minute, Griffin catching his breath and Nick watching him. Griffin rolls onto his side and looks at Nick.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“I never want you to feel like…” He trails off.

Nick shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I mean, it sucked, but it was - it was my brain, just freaking out. And I got the answer I was looking for, so I’m pretty happy about that.”

“Oh yeah?” Griffin murmurs.

“I did,” Nick says, and kisses him.

When they draw apart again, Griffin brushes Nick’s hair from his face. “All the time in the world,” he repeats, looking at Nick as if he’s asking for confirmation.

Nick rolls his eyes. “I mean, distance forbidding, right?” He says it with a little uncertainty now, pressing one thigh to Griffin’s. “Unless it’s a one-time thing,” he says after a beat of silence, bowing his head.

“No, it’s not - definitely not a one-time thing,” Griffin says, picking up Nick’s face again and kissing him. Every kiss is a little different, Nick thinks, as this one deepens. Griffin’s tongue is slow, his teeth are gentle; no biting, just dragging along Nick’s bottom lip. 

After a few minutes of quiet kissing, Griffin gets out of bed and gathers up the dirty comforter and sheet. Nick laughs and rolls onto his back, shivers - the hotel air is stiff and cold now that he’s alone. Griffin runs the bath for a few minutes and comes back, still stark naked, still perfect, and Nick smiles.

They talk that night, perfectly candid, for the first time in Nick’s recent memory. He falls asleep with Griffin’s jacket draped over his chest and half of the leftover blanket pulled up to their hips.


End file.
